


Dead Wires, Ordinary Humans, Exploring the Galaxy, and Many Other Things

by scipiocipher



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Eiffel is the commander, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Slight Minkowski/Mr.K, This is more tiny ficlets than comphrehensive fanfic, and HERA IS SCIENCE OFFICER, hilby is the AI now, i need something to help me through this election, minkowski is the comms officer, so at long last role swap au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2017-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:46:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scipiocipher/pseuds/scipiocipher





	1. Chapter 1

"What do you want?" Douglas Eiffel, the commander of the mission you are on, asks of you randomly.  
You ignore him, for your wants are vague and shapeless and you cannot have them.  
"What do you want?" He asks again.  
"Nothing." You reply, for he will not give you peace without an answer. Only a few months, near a half year, and you know that much.  
"Every person alive wants something."  
Am I a person, Eiffel? Am I alive? If one or more of those is wrong can I still want? Why do I want, after near two years of shutting desire and any emotion that didn't fuel my ambition and mission?  
Why do you seem to becoming a part of my wants? Why you, you are just an ordinary human that did a bad thing, you wouldn't even be here otherwise.  
Why do you make it hard to breathe?  
Why do you make my skin tingle- or well, what my skin would be if I weren't a machine- every time you brush against me, why do you make so many currents of electricity surge in the place that might be my chest where there were only dead wires?


	2. Reflection

Alexander often reflects on his crew as they sleep and the only thing for him to do is think and make sure they don't die from the various things that could go wrong- most of which he had near perfected the regulation of before they got here. Thoughts at this time can be pondered, indulged, languid.  
\---------------  
Hera is a laughing, strange human. Her eyes are sharp and bright, her smile inches away from being terrifying.  
Alexander tries to respect her, and prays he never gets on her bad side.  
She is definitely not ordinary, not with the way she makes him want to get conversations over as soon as he can with her. She is a wildfire, and he does not want to get burned.  
Minkowski is closer to ordinary. She is very much Spartan with near everything in her life- her quarters, her job, her speech. She likes order, and Alexander agrees with her on that.  
She is also very black and white in her idea of how actions reflect on a person, and Alexander does not agree with her on that. Life is situational, and only science is truly objective.  
She has a spouse- husband or wife, Alexander isn't sure. Her file says husband, but something tells him that may not be correct.  
Then there's him.  
Commander Eiffel, very much the ordinary human, yet so bizarre.  
His file has his worst mistakes scrubbed from it- but Alexander knows more than what's on their files, or what he's observed from them during their time here.  
He knows about the alcohol and the accident. He despises the cigarettes he brought with him, and yet he understands, no matter how much he wants to vent them into space.  
He's gotten really tired of him setting the air around him on fire though.  
A sensor is triggered in his periphery. Small spark that could turn into a different kind of flame in engineering. He vents the oxygen out for 10 minutes, then filters it back.  
The downside to having time to think is that the last mission sometimes comes and haunts him. He remembers them- Lovelace, Hui, Fourier, Fisher, Rhea, Lambert. He misses them, and sometimes feels something like pain rise up in his emotions. He abandons the thought quickly.  
He cannot look back.


	3. They might not be able to hurt you, but you can hurt you

Hera's fingers fly over the keyboard. She's the only one awake- she has an hour while Alexander goes through his debugging cycle. She has to update her progress on her logs and send them to command quickly.  
She could have more time if she used Alexander's code against him, but with higher rank authorization he'd easily slip through a loophole in that. She'd rather be assured that her secrets are as safe as possible, with as little damage to anyone else as possible.  
She updates everything- the plant experiments, the poking and prodding of Alexander's programming, and, most importantly, the progress of Decima on Officer Minkowski.  
She hasn't had the clear to start trials yet, and she hates it. They don't have time for bureaucracy in science. They only have time for progress. She hates command, frankly, and the ultimatum they gave her to make her work on decima.  
She'd burn them to the ground if she could, and her vile mother who tracked her down to make her work for them. She'd make them pay for so damn much.  
But she can't, so she'll just have entertain the thought and keep it where they'll never reach.  
That's the secret- keep what you love and value deep inside where they'll never reach to tear it from you. They can't hurt you if they don't know how to.  
Of course, you can hurt yourself just fine. She feels guilt rise in her whenever she admires the starlight on her sharp cheek bones, or the way her shocking red hair curls around her shoulders when it's loose, or they way her two different skin tones compliment each other so well.  
Yes, the trick to not letting others hurt you is to bury things deep inside you, next to your core, but that can hurt you too, and almost always will.


	4. Trust

“Alexander, run the cycle if you would be so kind.” Dr. Hamilton said. No reply. “Alexander.” she said sternly. 

“Sorry.” he replied. The machine that Dr. Hamilton prepared not minutes ago buzzed into life and she sighed, sitting back. Alexander had broken his holograph again. She didn't care how many times he said it wasn't him, she knew it was. She was not fixing it this time.

“Alexander.” she said. 

“Yes, Dr. Hamilton?” he asked. 

“Why do you hate me so much?” she asked, exhaustion dripping from her words. 

“I-I don't.” She could hear the flinch in his words that indicated he wasn't being completely truthful. 

“Don't insult me.” she said softly. “I know when you're telling the truth, and you aren't right now.” She got up and looked dead at his camera. “What. Did. I. Do.” she says, every word feeling like a physical slap.

“Nothing.” he replied. “It just-” he sighed. 

“Just what?” she asked.

“You're human. 75 times out of 80 of prior humans says you'll hurt me.” The words come out of his mouth, unbidden, and she can hear him wanting to hide in a ditch and die.

“I won't hurt you.” she says, knowing it will eventually become a lie and cursing herself for it. “Alexander, I'm not like those 75 priors.”

“How can I trust you?” he asks sullenly. “You only have words. Words are nothing.”

She thinks for a second and considers. She did get that command upgrade into his system the other day… that did open quite a few options up. “What if I told you a secret? Would that help you trust me, if I trusted you first?”

She could sense his ears practically pricking up. “What kind of secret?” he says, trying to hide his curiosity and failing. “Is it the fact that you don't wear a bra, because know that already and don't really care.”

“No, it's not that I don't wear a bra.” Dr. Hamilton sighed. “Not that kind of secret. It's about a high level secret project from Goddard.”

Alexander considered for a second. “Would you get in trouble if they knew you told me?”

“Yes.” Dr. Hamilton said.

“It might.” he said after a long pause. “Tell me.”

She took in a deep breath. “You can't tell anyone else about this, capisce?” She regretted using the command word on him, only just a little, but she couldn't let any mistrust grow about her. She had to do this. 

“Understood.” he said. “So, what is it? Are they making a bomb the size of a city?”

“No, no.” she almost laughed. “Lay off the retro-futurism stories.”

“Never.”

Dr. Hamilton laughed this time. “It's this bio-engineering project. Decima is what they call it.” She got up from her chair. “It involves a virus, which is being reverse engineered into helping people. It's quite a benevolent project, on paper at least.”

“What could be bad about a virus being used to help people?” Alexander asked innocently. “Isn't that an inherently good thing?”

“Well, they're using humans in the trials, which aren't really safe.” she said, starting to pace. 

“But it'll help more people than the ones in the trials, yes?” Alexander asked her. “Does that not make it better?”

“Well, yes…” she murmured. “And yes, that makes it better, but it doesn't make it good.”

Alexander sighed. “I think that makes sense.” Silence. “That's still not a very compelling secret, Doctor.”

“That's because I haven't finished telling it yet.” she said, smiling bitterly. “Guess who's in charge of the project, Alexander? Guess who makes the decisions on what phase of tests happens next? Guess who keeps it going?”

“Mister Cutter?” Alexander suggested.

That gave Dr. Hamilton a pause. “Well, no, but he does have a hand in some of those.” She shrugged. “No, I'm the one in charge of Decima.”

Alexander was quiet a few minutes. “Oh.” he finally said. “Well, that is certainly a little… jarring.”

“That's putting it mildly.” she said, sitting down again. Then, the pull of impulse rose in her. “Here's another secret: I've been rewriting your memories.”

Alexander was quiet a second, then he laughed. “Good joke!” he said between chuckles. “I didn't know you had such a wonderful sense of humor!”

Dr. Hamilton laughed too, but felt her chest go hollow. “Ridiculous isn't it? After all, that's impossible, now isn't it Alexander?”

“Well, yes.” he said. “You can't just go in my head and throw the furniture everywhere.” Then, a beat. “Dr. Hamilton?” Alexander said. 

“Yes, Alexander?” she asked.

“I trust you.”

\-------

Dr. Hamilton took in a deep breath once she knew Commander Eiffel was outside. “Alexander?” she said. 

“Yes?” he asked her, curiosity coloring his voice.

“Close off every room in the station and lock the external doors. Now.” she commanded. 

“Dr. Hamilton, I can't just-” he started.

“Alexander, do what I say, capisce?”

A jolt went through Alexander’s head, and suddenly everything was fuzzy. “Understood, Dr. Hamilton.” he said as he closed all of the doors. 

“Good.” She said good, but what she meant to say was sorry.


End file.
